


you are my blood (you are my holy wine)

by azirapha1e



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, can u te l l, can u tell i'm bitter, civil war spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azirapha1e/pseuds/azirapha1e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's silence - a silence that stretches for almost too long, and Steve's about to step back when -</p><p>"Your mom's name was Sarah," Bucky says. His voice is scratched raw from disuse. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."</p><p>(civil war spoilers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are my blood (you are my holy wine)

They don't have long. Steve knows they don't have long: it doesn't take a genius to figure out where he and Sam have run off to and their tails are probably getting closer by the minute, but none of this changes the fact that Bucky is lying unconscious in front of him, illuminated by the thin light streaming in through the window. His metal arm is held down. His hair has fallen in front of his closed eyes.

He's alive, and he's barely three feet away.

"Let me wake him."

"Steve -"

"He's out of it," Steve argues, even as Sam crosses his arms, "and we pinned him, what can he do-"

"We don't know which one he is," Sam reminds him. Steve can hear sympathy under the exasperation. There's a rustle from the floor and they both look down, watching as the man on the ground groggily sits upright. He sees Steve and stills, turning his head to look at him. His blue eyes have heavy shadows sat beneath them.

Steve's chest feels tight, and he can't quite breathe.

"Buck?"

There's silence - a silence that stretches for almost too long, and Steve's about to step back when -

"Your mom's name was Sarah," Bucky says. His voice is scratched raw from disuse. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

It's like falling from a height, all the air escaping from your lungs at once. There's an ache in his chest so deep and overwhelming that his heart feels like it's being torn in half - ninety years of grief condensed into one blistering singularity of a moment. Steve wonders, absurdly, if he's dreaming, if Bucky will be gone the second he looks away.

(It's a dream that happened often back at the compound - waking with the sheets knotted around his legs, arms reached out in vain, his heart beating frantically and Bucky's name caught in his mouth- )

"Sam," Steve starts, but doesn't finish. He clenches his fists at his sides and slowly lets the tension drain away from his hands. Sam looks at him for a long moment, then clears his throat.

"You've got about ten minutes," he says, and Steve is struck by a fervent kind of thankfulness that even now amongst the chaos, Sam Wilson can still read between the lines of everything unsaid and pick from silences what Steve can't say with words. He catches Sam's eyes as he leaves and shoots him a grateful look; the nod Sam gives him in return says, "Be careful."

And then they're alone.

The quiet shrouds them in a way that reminds him of the reverent hush in a church before the pastor speaks. Steve swallows, suddenly acutely aware of his own breathing - what does he say? What does he tell him? There is no protocol for this: for talking to someone you used to know as well as yourself, who was a part of you, who was ripped away and who took pieces of you with them.

He's relieved when Bucky breaks the silence and says, dryly, "Nice shirt."

"I wore it specially," Steve answers. He hopes the way he's shaking isn't obvious in the dim light.

“Can you get this off me?" Bucky asks, gesturing to the rubble trapping his metal arm. Steve nods, giving himself a moment to prepare before he steps forward. Bucky watches him wordlessly, his eyes transfixed on Steve's face like he's trying to transcribe every detail to memory.

Steve kneels next to him and realises, stomach lurching, that this is the closest he's been to Bucky since he fell. They've fought at close quarters but this is different, this is intimacy: Steve's hands on Bucky's skin, Bucky letting him get close enough to touch. Bucky is here in front of him, in the shell of room that smells like dust and smoke, a physical being who's alive and warm to the touch.

It's a relief so sharp it's almost painful and Steve forces himself to focus on the task at hand, carefully shifting the wreckage until the arm is free. Bucky grimaces once he's finished, rolls his shoulder a few times and flexes his fingers experimentally.

"Thanks," he says, and when he looks up at Steve one corner of his mouth curls upwards into a smile.

He doesn't realise he's moving forward until he feels Bucky's hand settling on his back, rubbing circles against his spine. He lets himself fall forward, lets his forehead rest against the crook of Bucky's neck and inhales, taking in the scent of him. He can feel his throat closing and pinpricks forming behind his eyes but he stays where he is, head hidden with his hands clutching the fabric of Bucky's shirt, and tries to breathe past it. Bucky's fingers gently stroke his back.

"I meant it, by the way," Bucky mutters. "You look good. Healthy."

"You're not so bad yourself," Steve says into Bucky's shoulder, and he feels it when Bucky huffs out a laugh.

"You aren’t - you're different. In the memories."

Steve looks up and Bucky lifts the hand that isn't gripping Steve's shoulder to run his fingers through Steve's hair, to trace the outline of his cheek - don't, Steve warns himself, and then leans into the touch anyway. He lets himself have this, just for a moment; the silence and the stillness, Bucky's skin on his, before he says:

"A lot's changed since then, Buck."

Bucky's hand stills on his cheek.

"Have we changed?"

Steve hesitates, and before he can open his mouth to speak Bucky kisses him, just once, rushed and barely there. He's struck still by the sudden flare of warmth that rises in him but then Bucky is stiffening, drawing back; Steve reaches out on instinct to pull him in closer.

"Hey," he murmurs, "hey, no, come here," and then they're kissing again, easy and slow.

"Did we do this, back then?" Bucky asks him when they break apart, breath hot on Steve's cheek. They're close; so close, noses brushing.

"Yeah," Steve whispers, voice cracking. "Yeah, we did."

Bucky's grip on him tightens; the kiss when it comes is fierce and reverent.

"You barely remembered me in DC,” Steve says, the words spilling out without meaning to, “I didn't think you'd even-"

"I loved you once," Bucky tells him, honest and low. "I remember that."

The words settle something, a piece of him sliding into place. Bucky shifts closer, and Steve wishes with sudden intensity that he could give him a place to rest. Sleep, hot food, somewhere safe; an old apartment in Brooklyn with windows that looked out over the street. The memory of it is faded like a dream.

Sam raps on the doorframe.

"Three black SUVs, about two miles out, approaching from the north. We need to move."

Steve stands, brushing dirt from his knees. He lets awareness of reality return, allows the tension to reinstate itself in his bones. He can feel Sam’s eyes on him, watching knowingly (Sam can always read Steve’s silences) and knows he’s got a fair amount of explaining coming his way. There’s a slight pressure on his wrist - he looks down to find Bucky has reached up and encircled it with his fingers, his thumb rubbing over Steve's pulse point.

"Okay?" Bucky asks him, quiet and questioning.

"Yeah," Steve answers, and finds that he means it. Not entirely, maybe, but enough.

He pulls Bucky up, and it's easier now to face the doorway, with Bucky behind him, with Bucky's hand in his.

"All right," Steve says. "Let's go.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to come and cry with me about civil war on [tumblr.](http://azirapha1e.tumblr.com/)


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